


The Old Tattoo

by SuleikasGhosts13



Category: Batman Beyond, Batman: The Animated Series, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Family Feels, Family Secrets, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuleikasGhosts13/pseuds/SuleikasGhosts13
Summary: Taking a mini-break from my main fandom to write this. The best way to fight Writer's Block is to keep writing!Using only the canon from the animated series. One day I'll get my hands on the comics....
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a mini-break from my main fandom to write this. The best way to fight Writer's Block is to keep writing!
> 
> Using only the canon from the animated series. One day I'll get my hands on the comics....

**Several Years Prior**

"McGinnis? You're grandmother's here to pick you up," one of the juvie guards called out as Terry pulled on his jacket.

He frowned. Why wasn't his Dad getting him, like they discussed during his visit last week? Why was his močiutė here instead?

Whatever the reason was, Terry could be certain it wasn't good. Warren McGinnis had trouble getting along with his former mother-in-law; he doubted she was doing his Dad a favor.

"Terry! It is _so good_ to see you," Audra Petronis greeted him warmly, arms stretched in anticipation of a hug. Embracing her, Terry caught a whiff of homemade soap, grapefruit, and smoked cedar.

Her long white tresses, once a deep black colour like her grandchildren's, were braided in a Finnish plait. Audra wore a cozy red turtleneck underneath a brown leather jacket, a favorite accessory of hers. An aura of vintage practicality weaved around his grandmother.

"I didn't realize you were back in Gotham, Baba," Terry said, ecstatic. She was never the type to stay in one place.

"Well, your mother told me how you were being released from juvenile hall, so I hopped on the earliest train," she explained. Nearly three decades living in North America had failed to diminish her Eastern European accent. "I'm crashing at her apartment for the time being."

Strolling past the main gates, Audra popped on her aviator sunglasses. "She's cooking a lovely dinner for the three of us tonight. And Matthew will be over the moon to see you."

"He isn't mad that I missed his sixth birthday?"

"He was upset initially, but he understood," she pulled out the keys to her rental. "That phonecall helped."

Terry felt awful. Yeah, Mattie understood alright- understood that his big brother was a massive screwup who got himself locked away for three months.

Driving away, she continued, "I actually wanted to have ourselves a little chat before your Dad got his hands on you."

_Ah._ "He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

Audra sneered, "Nope."

Terry groaned. He was already imagining the absolute shitshow that awaited him at home, especially if his Dad showed up at juvie without a fair warning. "Give me your phone, Baba. I need to _at least_ shoot him a text...."


	2. Waiting Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the canon I'm relying on comes from the episodes "Maid of Honor" and "Hawk and Dove".

_"Any action is justifiable if it serves a greater purpose. The tricky part is whether that purpose is worthy of your efforts."_

Her mother's words echoed around her skull as Mary McGinnis prepared for another late night waiting up for Terry. Boiling the kettle, popping a small bowl of popcorn, and curling up in front of the television.

Many times she found herself wishing he'd quit. For all his kindness and generosity, Mr. Wayne worked her son ragged. Terry would come home collapsing from exhaustion, and his social life suffered for it. He'd often miss their family outings, and his relationship with his girlfriend was on the brink. Mary very much doubted Dana would stick around much longer if this kept up.

Still... It was hard to argue that this job brought about positive changes in her son. His parents' divorce and then Terry's time in juvie had left him melancholy, restless, and volatile. With how often he found himself in trouble at school, Mary had worried if it was only a matter of _when_ her boy would return to jail.

After rescuing Mr. Wayne, however, Terry walked with greater confidence. He wasn't getting into anymore fights in school and slowly, but surely, his grades were improving. Heck, he was graduating high school later that month, a feat she had previously deemed unattainable!

Smiling slightly, Mary flipped the TV on to the evening news.

"Tonight, the City of Dublin is in an uproar over the apparent assassination of a Kasnian political refugee on its streets-"

She gasped, and quickly turned the volume up.

"In a move reminiscent of Cold War conspiracies, Afërdita Hoxha was struck with a poison dart as she dined at a cafe patio in downtown Dublin yesterday afternoon. She was seen clasping her throat and collapsing at her table. She was immediately transported to St. Bridget Hospital, where she was pronounced dead upon arrival. No suspects have yet been apprehended.

"Thirty years ago, Hoxha fled civil war in her native country of Kaznia to the Republic of Ireland, where she continued to denounce Queen Audrey and her cabinet."

A clip appeared, taken at least ten years ago, of Kaznian expats protesting. Afërdita, brunette hair bobbed and dressed in a white business suit, spoke at the podium.

"When our people demonstrated peacefully for the queen's abdication, her administration responded with a massacre! Our tribal elders and our elected leaders, gone within a fortnight! Now they _claim_ that these deeds were committed by Southern zealots, but _we_ know better. Audrey's Secret Police have blood on their hands!"

_Absolute power corrupts absolutely,_ Mary thought. Once, Princess Audrey had been hailed as a progressive. Whatever happened in those 48 hours married to Vandal Savage, it twisted Queen Audrey so that she became arguably the cruelest in her dynasty.

"The Kaznian government steadfastly denies any involvement-"

"Of course, they do," Mary spat bitterly, flicking the tv off. She'd been very tempted in chucking the damn clicker at its screen.

**12:30 A.M.**

_Slag it,_ Terry silent cursed, slowly creeping through the front door. Though he told his mother not to stay up for him, lately she's being doing just that. He'd been finding her fast asleep on the couch. That can't be comfortable.

Sure enough, as he entered their living room, he spotted his mother curled up in a fetal position, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Their flat-screen was off, however, and food and drink remained untouched.

_OH._

On the coffee table lay a large wooden box, intricately carved and padlocked. If his mother had brought it out from her bedroom closet, it meant she was severely depressed.

Terry knew what it was. The chest contained the only thing she managed to save from her childhood, before she immigrated to the United States with Baba Audra and Anglicized her name: her father's performing assemble.

Terry's grandfather Damyan was a renown folk dancer who won national acclaim. Besides mastering the many line footwork popular in the Balkans, such as the _horo_ , Damyan specialized in a complicated sword dance unique to his tribe in Northern Kaznia.

That's actually how his grandparents met: A Lithuanian tourist, Audra had made a pit stop in Damyan's village before traveling onwards to the capital. She saw him onstage, they got to talking, and... the rest was history.

Mary McGinnis _loved_ telling her children that story.

_"Your grandfather was so handsome; his dark skin was always so flawless and his red hair hung around his shoulders. When he dance, it was like watching liquid flow. He leapt higher, he spun faster, he kicked like no other- your močiutė found him simply irresistible,"_ she would sigh happily. If Baba Audra was in close proximity, she would blush furiously and hush her daughter.

Their family held no surviving photographs; they were all destroyed in the Civil War. Terry had only his imagination and this dancer's uniform to remember his grandfather by. Searching the internet proved fruitless as well.

Perhaps he'd have better luck searching through the Batcomputer's data. The Near-Apocalypse of '09 had been triggered by the events in Kaznia, and Bruce had been in the area at the time.

Terry decided. If he could find something anything- a photo, birth certificate, maybe even a news article- it would mean the world to his mother.


	3. The Dinner From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Kaznia is a fictional country, I tried fleshing it out with different phrases from the Balkan regions. (The coordinates given in the Justice League match that region.)
> 
> My language skills are very broken. Very broken. Please forgive me.

Later, Terry wished he had gone straight to Wayne Manor after school.

Max had been accepted into MIT, all eight Ivy League schools, and four international universities. To celebrate, her older sister, Vanessa and several of her high school friends had promised to take her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant.

"I'm glad Mr. Wayne decided to give you the night off," Dana said cheerfully, arm-in-arm.

"He's fond of Max," he smiled, "despite all the grief he gives her."

"If you two ever send me on another goose chase for pastries," Max chuckled darkly, "I'm draining your accounts."

"Pastries" was their codeword for electronic evidence. Last month, they were investigating the CEO of AstroTech in connection with several incidents of corporate espionage and smuggling, finding zilch. Turns out, for the CEO's illegal bookkeeping, he went oldschool with a typewriter. Go figure.

"Didn't realize Mr. Wayne had such a particular sweet tooth," Jared chimed in, grinning widely.

"He's nothing _but_ particular," Terry laughed.

Sadly, their first choice- a Korean restaurant they had made reservations for last week- had suffered a devastating kitchen fire the night before. The place was shut down until they could start repairs.

They suffered similar luck with their second option. The high-end Mexican eatery ended up being too crowded to accommodate their party.

Their group meandered through Downtown Gotham, throwing out suggestions as they past potential spots. Just before they gave up, however, they discovered a little hole-in-the-wall tavern named _György & Ferkó_. It resided in a quaint brick-and-mortar building, the Kaznian flag flying proudly above its door.

"I've never really eaten Eastern European food before," Dana hesitated.

"Yes you have," Terry corrected," at my house. My Mom's recipes are from the Baltics."

"So the food here should be somewhat-?" Dana was interrupted by the loud rumbling in her stomach.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Corey said, approaching the front door. "Max, this place good?"

"Yeah, it's good," she said. Upon smelling the savory scents wafting through the entranceway, she added, "It's _very_ good."

The pub was dimly lit, decorated with candles and vintage photographs lining the walls. A portrait of Queen Audrey hung over the bar. Despite being packed, they managed to grab a long table in the middle of the room.

"Nazdrave!" The folks beside them cheered. Apparently they were celebrating a birthday. A twelve-year-old boy sat at the head, all smiles.

"Edna golyama bira, molya!"

"Oi, waiter, over here!"

"Hello, my name is Izabella, and I'll be your waitress this evening," greeted a pretty blonde woman with tanned skin. Izabella wore a matching navy vest and bistro apron, a golden chamois embroidered over her right breast.

"Kolko struva?"

"Skapo e."

After they gave her their orders, they settled in, listening to the soft Balkan music playing on the radio. Vanessa and Dana had pulled out their phones, snapping selfies and group shots.

"Az ne znam. Može li da povtoriš?"

"Sãžaljavam."

"This place is really schway," Corey told Terry and Max, barely audible over the low roar of the patrons.

"Dabogda ti ispali svi zubi sem dva, a da ne znaš koji te boli!"

"Simpatizuesi i thonjve të kuq-!"

Soaking in his surroundings, Terry couldn't help but feel a little mischievous. His mother had never taken them to a Kaznian restaurant before. Heck, his mother didn't even want that many people outside the family to know they were Kaznian. He'd figured it must've been her traumatic experience as a refugee.

"Naj te koklja brcne!"

"Această doamnă va plăti pentru tot."

"Those terrorists pigs-!"

Terry noticed a couple of things. One, not everyone was speaking the same language or dialect. Not surprising, considering the Kaznian kingdom's sheer size and diversity.

"говно!"

"Kãde e toaletnata?"

" _Te geci_!"

"And then that broad _cheats_ on me, can you believe that?!"

Secondly, the tavern housed a rough crowd. Probably rougher than what you'd find at a Kaznian establishment in Metropolis or New York. Customers wearing leather or camo, several pounds of jewelry. Heavily scarred or hidden under caked makeup, staring about behind their stines. Terry had seen this in a dozen other joints around the city: _Classic Gotham influence._

"Vii aici des?"

"Oh _heck no!_ "

He was just digging into his plate of sarma when it happened. The joyous atmosphere of their neighbors soured, as an elderly man with a long, gray beard stood up. He shouted at the host, "Have fun with that, you royalist rat!"

A middle-aged man in a mullet jumped from his seat. "Royalistki plŭkh? Kak smeesh!"

The room grew quiet. The grizzled grandfather furiously grabbed his coat and hat, "We _know_ you were talking to Vilmos Egans. You sold out your own elders to the secret police!"

"You lie," his relative got in his face. "You lie because you are still bitter that I married your daughter. Newsflash, Andor, it wasn't the government who killed your colleagues. It was Southerners!"

"Nyald ki a seggem!"

_Splash_.

Mulletman had flung a bowl of soup into the senior citizen's face. His father-in-law stumbled back into his seat as its contents dripped down his nose.

"Get him, Dad!" His preteen cheered.

The place erupted. Food went flying everywhere, unfortunately catching their group before they could move out of range.

Terry ducked as a beer bottle soared over his head. "Check please!"

"Terry, this is no time for jokes," Dana cried. "Let's get out of here!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Royalistki plŭkh? Kak smeesh!" translates to, "Royalist rat?! How dare you!"
> 
> ""Nyald ki a seggem!" Is "Lick my ass."


End file.
